


Home visit

by WHUMPBBY



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ;], Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Archya's verse, M/M, Meeting the Parents, a slice of life with one moment of light angst, a terrifying though for any alpha, dealing well with it, gladio is a trans alpha, mentioned IgNoct, omega parents, omega!Prompto, otherwise it's more of a study about abo society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHUMPBBY/pseuds/WHUMPBBY
Summary: A while back Archya and I talked about the idea she had - where Gladio was a trans Alpha in an ABO universe, trying to live his life in a strictly structured noble society - while Prompto is a free running Omega coming form the Common Folk who have much more relaxed views on the whole social structure of assigned genders. They start going out. Gladio learns things.Meeting Prompto's parents seems like a next logical step.





	Home visit

So, as it happened, meeting one's boyfriend’s parents was pretty nerve wracking even for someone used to dealing with nobility in various states of poshness. At least with nobles, everything was clear and pre-set, and structured. He knew how to swim in these waters, no matter how these sharks not always knew what to do with him. 

Short to say: Gladio was nervous. Alphas usually were when faced with a new territory or situation, and here he was being gifted with a package of both topped with a big red bow of ‘If you fuck this one up Prom will never speak to you again’. That was quite a lot of weight to put on someone. 

Even after all the years of trying to fit himself within the cracks of the mould prepared for him by his birthright and designation, being presented with a whole new set of cracks was a daunting, harrowing prospect

The small brick house in the close knitted community near the central park wasn’t only a new territory – it was a completely  _ Omega  _ territory. 

He’s never been in a nest so uniform. He felt awkward by just standing on the porch – towering over Prompto’s father like a behemoth, big and graceless, and stinking the place up with his Alpha scent, completely disturbing the careful balance of aromas wafting through the front door.

The whole thing was made even more awkward by the need to control his lifelong habits around the people who weren’t raised in the strictly orchestrated dynamics and procedures of the noble houses. Prompto told him many times – and Ignis, and Noctis – that they were embarrassing him with certain things they did habitually and usually it didn’t bother any of them, making the Omega blush was fun. They all, in their own ways, tried to make the kid acquainted with their customs, hoping that with time they will become his customs. As much as Prompto wasn’t eager to make any long-term plans yet, the noble trio wished to incorporate him into theirs and the first step on the way was to have him comfortable with his surroundings. 

The second one was to get into the good graces of his parental units. 

So this time it was important to avoid any and all failures. And even though Gladiolus firmly believed that Ignis should be the one to break this particular ice, he was downvoted. Apparently, he was the most approachable out of the three - an idea he found amusing. 

Prompto counted on him to not ‘freak his parents out’ by acting like a Lord’s son (who he was, as it happened, but he understood the underlying message). Who would have thought that the common notions of indecency were the same exact things that were metaphorically beaten into his head from the crib, though?  

Present yourself as strong and tall, read the new acquaintances and let them read you in turn, keep your distance after the initial scenting and mark your space. When in doubt, keep to silence and don’t lower your eyes. Scenting was a good way to recognise and, if needed, re-structure the hierarchy - a normal thing with no sexual connotations whatsoever. 

And here, just after exchanging hellos, Prompto’s father shook his hand as if they were familiar and, before the scents could be properly exchanged, turned away from Gladio and motioned him to follow inside the house. As if the royal Shield was some serf unworthy of a common courtesy! It was a dismissal that stung his pride and threw his Alpha instincts into chaos!

Gladio’s hackles rose sharply - only to crash down when Prompto’s soft hand landed on the small of his back. The Omega used the touch to guide him forward and bring him back to the reality of what he was doing there. Mainly, trying to fit in. And, so far, failing miserably.

“Please, don’t growl at my dad,” Prompto muttered to him as they entered a tasteful, if a bit cluttered hall. “He’s already on his toes.”

“I can’t really help it.” Gladio whispered back, sweat starting to gather between his shoulderblades. 

The light cashmere sweater Iggy picked for him was soft and nice, pale cream being a ‘friendly’ colour that Omegas were supposed to respond positively to - but it was a bit warm. Or he was just scared.   

“You can.” Prompto handed him a pair of house slippers, already changing into his own pair adorned with chocobo prints. “I’ve seen you canning. Can a bit harder.”

“I’m… nervous.” 

Admitting it was another kind of torture, but the smile he got in response was bright and reassuring.  

“Don’t worry, my parents will like you, Gladdy. They’re Omegas, the exact opposite of intimidating. ”

Were they? According to stereotypes, yes, maybe. But in reality? Prompto’s house was an epitome of everything that Gladio wasn’t – cheerful and cosy, and comfortable above all else. From the curtains, through the pillows littering the sofa, to the people living in it, the house was full of soft, bright things. It was a space created and maintained exclusively by Omegas and it was so obvious that even someone with no nose in their face would be able to tell.

And it was intimidating in a completely new way.

Before he’s even had a chance to put his shoes to join the neat line alongside the hall’s wall, a new smell emerged from the living room that had Gladio straightening his back unconsciously. 

Prompto’s mother was a small woman in her mid-forties. She smiled at him with the soft smile that he had vague recollections of seeing sometimes on his boyfriend’s face, when Prom though none of them was looking. She wore an apron over a nice, sensible dress and her dark hair was pinned up. A picture of a word ‘neatness’ if Gladio ever saw one.

She took him in with a bold stare, top to bottom, as if he was a chocobo put on sale suspiciously cheap. Only then she nodded in a relievingly approving fashion and reached out to shake his hand, too.

“Well, aren’t you a big lad?” Her voice was as gentle as the skin of her palm. “What do they feed you boys at the Citadel? Can you make sure Prompto gets some of that?”

“Mo-om!”

So distracted Gladio was with her and his own worries that he only realised he’s lifting her hand to his nose after it was halfway up. A stroke of genius saved him from the terrible social faux pas and instead of scenting along the delicate veins on her daintily wrist, he turned it around and kissed the back of her hand in a show of a long dead classical courtesy.

Her smile wavered for a short moment only to return with force, accompanied by a bright blush. Gladio wanted to run out the door and never return.

“Smooth,” Prompto whispered after his mom asked them about preferred drinks and disappeared inside the kitchen. “Why you never kiss my hand?”

“Do you want me to start?”

“It would be better than public scenting.”

“You speak like you didn’t like it.”

“You act like you don’t know that I don’t.”

Prompto’s father was waiting at them in the living room, so the argument was postponed for a later date. As it usually was - Gladio lost count of how many times they’ve had this conversation. 

But the idea with hand kissing seemed like something to consider. There were some entertainment values in there.  

Not now, however. Now Prompto’s father was inviting Gladio to sit on the stuffed armchair that was way too comfortable for its worn looks. The older Omega and his son took the couch -  natural behaviour, Gladio’s brain supplied, unconscious attempt to contain his scent to the smallest possible area that the family used on daily basis. A subtle signal that he was a stranger still and ‘family’ spaces - like the big, comfy couch - were off limits. 

He didn’t know how he knew it - the noble houses acted differently about this, their structures rejected such instinctual behaviour in favour of nore even spread of… favour. But he knew now and slowly, but surely, his mind started to catch up to the new situation. 

They’ve waited for dinner, watching a game show that Prompto’s father was apparently a fan of, and Gladio’s Alpha started to shake itself out of stupor, slowly feeling out the ice, emerging into this new air. 

It was easier to talk once the instincts straightened themselves out. 

Then, Prompto’s mother called that the dinner was ready and, well, there was scarce number of things that would settle an Alpha down easier than a full plate. And even if the simple roast was a far cry from Ignis’ nearly scientifically composed dishes, it was a good red meat with a hearty helping of roasted veggies and gravy. 

Another aspect of Omegas that turned out true - a good nest never lacked nourishment. No wonder that Prom was a chubby child, though Gladio around his third helping of the steak. How could he not be? 

He was rather glad for the amount of food, it allowed him to focus on his plate and watch the little family at their most unguarded for a while. 

Prom’s parents were both dark, small and slim, notwithstanding an attractive curve here and there, and if Gladio didn’t know any better and the hair colour matched, he would be hard pressed to believe that Prompto wasn’t their biological son. They were just so similar… except, of course, for Prompto having a good two inched on both of the older Omegas. Gods, Gladio was unaware that they made adult people this tiny. A small family, indeed! 

But they shared the same softness between them. The bright eyes, the quick, twittering moves of fragile things that have to be minded, the high-pitched laugh and wide gesticulation. Prompto grew up in this house, it was evident, even if his youth was lonely. 

The conversation during dinner was easy, unassuming: how did you two meet, what are your plans for the upcoming summer; gentle probing about the family situation - do you have siblings? Your parents have to be proud of such a handsome son!

Gladio took the praise with grace and in turn tried to seem genuinely interested in the refurbishment of the first floor and the building of the garden shed Prompto’s father has planned. He was glad - and not a bit surprised - that there was none of the grilling he kind of expected. Nothing about his position, his employment, his accomplishments. It was… nice. Different.

“Gladio may be pretty, but his sister is tiny and cute,” Prompto quipped at some point with a wink towards the startled Alpha. “Their dad only has eyes for her.”

And with that, as it turned out, he’d struck a goldmine. His mom gasped and from that point on the discussion turned to Gladio’s sister and the differences between raising an Alpha child versus an Omega one. 

Gladio didn’t mind at all. Since their mother had passed away two years ago him and Clarus had no choice, but to close ranks and take a more hand-on approach. Between them and a nanny that dealt with the  _ female  _ parts of her upbringing, Iris was a child that wanted for nothing when it came to support or protection, and Gladio always tried to be an active part of her life. 

Now he swapped stories with Prompto’s mother, shared experiences and compared the notes - so to speak - and it all felt natural and, again,  _ nice _ . 

He’s made the whole table laugh with the story about Iris’ first attempts at growling when she was about five years old - an early sign of the child’s designation that most toddlers luckily grew out of. The adventures of a single father and harrowed older brother were a perfect bonding material, apparently. 

“She sounds like a lovely, spirited young lady,” Prompto’s mother said, reaching over the salad to pat the Alpha’s hand. “Maybe you can bring her with you next time, love, I’d love to meet her.”

That had Gladio’s metaphorical ears perking up. 

Next time? 

Meaning, he’d passed? 

From the not that subtle kick in the shin and the way subtler thumbs-up from Prom’s side of the table, it seemed that he’d passed the Dinner Test. 

The feeling of unexpected joy that thought awoke in him was hard to squash - and squashed it had to be, because making that pleased-rumbling Alpha-noise in polite company was downright rude. 

“Prompto, honey, help me clean the table.”

Uh-Oh. 

Gladio smelled the trap as soon as it was set. He watched his boyfriend - the loveable and gullible twit that he was - jump at the chance to help his Ma clean, while his father nodded to Gladio in the universal Dad Speech for “Let’s leave them to it, there’s a game on the TV.” 

There was, indeed, a game on TV. Lucis’ Glaives vs Lastallum’s Daemons. He didn't expect the older Omega to be into contact sports, but that only showed what he knew. Made sense, it just wasn’t possible for every Omega in the world to be interested in art and ‘soft’ entertainment. Gladio long time suspected that this particular stereotype propagated by the nobles was utter crap.   

Hell, if Iris could get emotional over the ice skating, then Prom’s dad was perfectly able to enjoy two teams of big, burly Alphas tousling on the grass in nothing, but tight shorts and short sleeved shi… Oh. 

Okay, he could respect that. 

Gladio himself wasn’t that much into contact sports that didn't involve blades, but he could appreciate a good game put in front of him. It was surprisingly easy to relax in the presence of the older Omega. A good meal helped, certainly, but being accepted into the house somehow changed his perception of the space around him and it wasn’t so scary and alien anymore, It was comfortable, claiming, inviting. 

It was some Omega magic that was happening there and Gladio wished he could put some of it into a bottle to later show it to Ignis and Noct.   

“Prompto never liked sports, you know?” Mr Argentum mused, a small smile on his face. “It was all nature documentaries with him when he was a child. Then he got into photography.”

“He’s very good,” Gladio made sure to keep his voice serious, but honest. “Never goes anywhere without that camere of his.” He chuckled. “Always picking the most embarrassing moments to take photos.”

They shared a chuckle over that, Gladio reminiscing about the one time when the blond took a very unflattering photo of the Crown Prince’s backside sticking out of the graceless sprawl that was an effect of said Prince tripping over his own feet. Sharing that story was a good choice, as it made the older Omega almost choke with laughter. 

“My son is an easygoing boy,” the man smiled wistfully after a while. “And all too fast to follow his nose, as you're probably noticed. That got him in hot water more times than I can recall with some people who… let’s say, lacked integrity.”

Dark eyes of the older man looked at Gladio with a sudden hard intent and Gladio felt his shoulders stiffening instinctively. His nostrils flared - but no, the scent in the air didn’t change. But then again, the man was probably too experienced to let his emotions sour the air. 

It was confusing. Was he unaware of something? Did he do anything that got him on the Omega’s bad side? Did he say the wrong thing…?

“I would like to think that Prompto’s recent company is more trustworthy than that.”

What…? What was that look for?   

Oh. 

Oh, gods!

Was… was Prompto’s father trying to be intimidating? To intimidate  _ him _ ? Was that the Shovel Talk that Regis gave Ignis back in the day, around Noctis’  first heat, that Clarus still thought was the most terrifying he’s ever seen the King at? 

Oh gods and daemons, keep him from doing something completely moronic: like cooing out loud or, or – dunno,  _ nuzzling  _ the man – because that would be bad, a terribly bad thing to do. Prom would never forgive him.

Prompto would never speak to him if he disrespected his father like that! 

Gladio’s instincts were ready to tear him apart on the spot while he tried to keep a straight face and nod in understanding of the threat from a man that barely reached his bicep. His inner Alpha urged him to reassert himself as - it also urged him to pacify the Omega via physical means. 

Omegas were known for their feats of viciousness when protecting their progeny. A smart Alpha never risked an Omega’s wrath - and wrath would certainly happen if Gladio put moves on Prompto’s dad. 

“I understand, sir.” He spoke in the end, loud enough to make sure that the message got across. “Prom’s a handful, but he’s a joy to be around.”

“Of course he is. Once he decides to settle down, he’s going to make someone very exasperated, but also very happy.” 

The Omega smiled at him and Gladio squashed the urge to preen.   

Good gods, he was terrible. His privileged upbringing made him a social cripple and he didn't even know! 

Ignis would most probably set himself on fire in his place, poor man, realising that everything he always knew was a lie. If he only knew that his prim and proper behaviour was in actuality the epitome of boorishness outside of the Citadel’s walls! 

Gladio planned to confront him with the idea at the earliest convenience. 

From then on everything went smoothly. 

 

* * *

 

On the ride back they caught a late train to the city centre and, surprisingly, a whole cart to themselves. Gladio slumped in the seat opposite the door, leaning his head on the window, glad for the space. He always had problem with public transport vehicles being too small for his wide frame. 

Prompto slumped next to him with a sigh, limbs akimbo. 

“Your parents are very nice,” Gladio admitted, keeping the blond close to his side. “They seem very caring.” 

He wanted to tell Prompto about the Shovel Implication he received from his dad - it would raise the blond’s spirits, he was sure. But before he got to it, Prompto sighed and leaned into him even more, letting his exhaustion show. 

Gladio didn't even suspect that the whole thing was as stressful for his boyfriend as it was for him - and he should, damnit, he totally should know. Prompto was a worrier from the ground up!

“Yeah, they are cool. Now that we have more time for each other it’s nice, isn't it?”

For that Gladio had no answer. Now they had more time? What about then? 

Suddenly all the little snippets of information he’s heard through the years spent in the company of the Prince and his best friend came back to him with vengeance. Mentions of a lonely childhood, of an empty house and days spent wishing for a friend. 

“I think it's my scent, you know.” The blond continued. “If I was their biological son, they would like it more, and we would be… eh, heats are difficult when you are in a same designation family. Mom’s heats are really hard, and since dad is synced with her… it’s just a mess. And, because I’m not really… I mean, you know, during heats we don't really read each other as family… it’s a one big mess.”  The laugh was strained and reedy. A moment later, however, Prompto’s head was back up and his smile was almost believable. “Short to say, I moved out as soon as I could afford and now it’s better. I have my own place, so that’s a plus. No need to hide my heat aid stuff, because mom and dad are kinda traditional about it. And, hey, every other week I will visit and it’s so much easier between us.”

Every other week? 

Gladio imagined his life without the constant steadying presence of his father at his back, without his mother’s steadfast care - no matter how much they had to put up with from one another, familial love and dedication in his house was never under question. If he hadn’t had that? If he could only count on it sporadically? 

That didn’t bear thinking about.  

“I just think they hoped I would be a Beta… and sometimes I guess I kinda wish I didn’t present.”

Gladio stilled at these words, his thought process grinding to a sudden halt, because this -  _ this  _ he knew. The blind “I wish part” where his imagination would present him with a perfect scenario of a perfect life if he’d only - well, if he was  _ different _ . If he wasn’t himself. How much easier it would be if he was born as a pure Alpha - fitting inside of his skin, with the correct plumbing that didn’t trip him at the least opportune moments. 

Or even the other way around: if his brain fit his body and both worked together in harmony. How much pain and shame would he be spared if only… he wasn’t himself. 

It took a lot of time for him to finally find himself in a place he was happy in. A lot of time, work and support to finally stop asking the dreadful ‘what if’. 

It never occurred to him until now that others around him might have asked themselves that same question. 

Noctis, the first Omega in a line that bred Alphas since the beginnings of Lucis. How was he feeling about it? About the fact that whatever he wanted to be was forever marred by what he was expected to be and even more by what he  _ was _ . Was that the reason for his aloofness and his stubbornness, and his complete refusal to follow anyone’s steps, but his own? 

And Prompto. 

Prompto, who apparently never stopped questioning himself. Never stopped to consider that the fault may not lay in him. 

“You’re perfect as you are.” 

The words got out of his mouth before Gladio made a conscious decision to speak them. But he didn’t regret them.  

Especially when Prompto looked up at him, blue eyes shining with joy and a blush rising on his cheeks. 

“That’s… very sweet of you to say.”

The chaste peck on the cheek was also nothing to sneeze at. 

Gladio tightened his fingers on Prompto’s thin, pale hand, and allowed his Alpha step up to the fore, calming his Omega with a low rumbling purr.

All in all, the dinner went much better than eh expected it to. 

 

 


End file.
